


war

by lovecoded



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, War Mention, but she’s a goddess so give her a break let her preach, chosen person complex or something, lots of introspection becuase someone needs to organise her thoughts and feelings, no pronouns for reader, that is me. the author., the moon is kinda preachy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovecoded/pseuds/lovecoded
Summary: a war is about to break out, but how can you deal with that when you have another war raging within you?akaashi keiji, unfortunately, and figuratively, is your ally and your enemy.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader
Kudos: 4





	war

**Author's Note:**

> sticks and stones may break my bones but 2.4k words will give me a severe headache on the first few days of new years eve after 5 years of believing i lacked a brain.
> 
> also, i made the paragraph spacing larger because my eye sight is horrible.

When Akaashi comments on the beauty of the moon, your shelved nightmares of the impending war come to mind. Admiring the moon no longer brought that comfort it gave you when you were five. Instead, it sits in the sky like a warning. 

To stop the war, your top priority should be to find and prepare the way for the hero. However, a detour to Akaashi’s tiny town, Padeth, for a slice of bread unfurled a series of events. There were the “we keep bumping into each other (coincidentally or not)” interactions at the plaza, and even a period where you offered help at his family’s bakery. 

Then, there’s this night. It is an accumulation of gentle greetings and tiny touches. Of hearing his voice from daybreak to sunset. Excitement was an understatement, and when both of you settled on the large field north of Padeth, (“my secret spot,” he whispered), it laid the perfect foundations to veil the shaky ladder of hope as something enticing to climb. 

Hands playing gently with the hem of your shirt, you add a precautionary nod as a reply even if you’re aware he is enamoured with the glimmer in the sky. Not once were you able to gaze into his eyes under the innocent moonlight (and no. Daydreaming doesn’t count). It feels impossible to lift your head with responsibility dense in your body, but a minute has passed, and you didn’t want his attention for the wrong reasons. You face the truth, the glare of the moon uninviting. 

The night stretches on. When he shares about the tales and myths that his father had told him about the moon—unaware he’s talking about the hero under your hypothetical care—you had to swallow the guilt that has been building in the back of your throat. The longer you cave to your desires, the chances of these tales becoming true will diminish. It will quench that sparkle in his eyes and flatten that subtle upward tilt of his lips you so admire (maybe even more than how he admired the moon). 

“The moon sure is... something,” you add, layering your words with a light chuckle to hide the disappointment that you fail to swallow. 

“It is,” he says, no quiver in his voice. 

You try not to be bothered by the way he addressed the moon, sending an apology her way even if you’re aware that calling the moon “something” is not a nicer alternative. _They simply do not know_ , you think, and right after, guilt begins to thrive in your throat. 

Despite it all, you know you can’t correct him, nor talk about your mission. Your village taught you a lesson on that. The haunting hollering of your village rings in your years. Their insults cutting deep into your heart, a crack for the seed of doubt to fester. It took sleepless nights to grow that conviction of being the _chosen one._

(Well, at least that made leaving the village easier.) 

Unfortunately, you know it would take a lifetime if it was Akaashi saying it instead. 

Your village had also been waiting as anxiously as Padeth (if not even _more_ ), yet they’ve used every ounce of energy to deny your choosing. The zeal Akaashi had—the wish that overflows from him regarding the hero and all the blessings to come—drowns the words you wish you tell. 

You are trapped—between the terrible truth and the equally worrisome “what ifs”. 

Gazing at the moon used to give you strength to do the right thing, even if the reminder was burdensome. Reciting the prophecy in your head too. Chanting “ _I’m the chosen one”_ had its effects. However, none of your tricks seems to be able to tear you away from the spot beside Akaashi, and soon enough your attention shifts to how dangerously close he is. 

You hear his breathing despite the singing winds. You think the thump of his heartbeat is easier to feel than the soil under your fingertips. There is the moon he so greatly adores, while you stare at him with a yearning that you’re not meant to be a vessel for. 

Your quiet seems to be the final puzzle piece he needs. When he turns to you, your joy for attaining his attention springs alive— 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

—only to be struck. 

Your tongue twist at the thought of telling a lie. 

“I...” you drawl, looking at the moon for help although feeling silly afterwards. “I need a moment.” 

You’re getting up from your position, dusting off the dirt when he teases your heart with his words. 

“It's dangerous to go alone.” 

The crackle of fire fills your thoughts, preventing you from forming a quick and sufficient reply. You merely gape at him embarrassingly. 

“If anything is bothering you,” he says, taking a moment to eye you down, seemingly hesitant to accept the fact you’re closing off, “you know you can-” 

You lift your sword the moon gave (another reminder of your duties) to direct his attention to it. “I’ve got a sword.” You tilt it, allowing the moonlight to reflect off the hilt. The celestial powers it holds makes it shinier under the moon’s gaze, and Akaashi squints when the reflected light seems to blind him. It’s reasonable to retract, take a step back to hide from it—instinctive even—but you can’t help but feel it’s a sign that the truth shouldn’t always be revealed. 

“You’ve never won a duel against me,” he says once he gets over the initial flash.

Your heart clutches as it would when he brings this up, but this time it drowns in agony instead of pride. 

“I wasn’t using this sword,” you bite back, and he’s not amused. “I’ve defeated monsters you don’t even know exists.” Except, maybe the one in your head, messing with the controls and north feels south while east was—whatever. 

“Then, are you sure you have to go?” 

It’s starting to dawn upon you how mesmerising he is with his dark locks and shimmering eyes. To have lengthened your stay at Padeth either shows his power over you, or how useless these items are. And you're very sure it is the former, especially with the weight of the sword that aches your arm like never before. 

There's nothing witty to say so you stare at the ground. Your legs are glued, and what was meant to be a relaxing night feels constricting. 

Weighing options used to flow like water, but when you lift your head up to give Akaashi a meek smile and meet with his “you-can-trust-me expression”, honey adds to the mix. His lips are tightly sealed. You know that means he’s ready to listen. His gaze is steady. You know that means he _sees_ you—and that felt like breathing. Like existing. 

"I’ll be fine,” you gather the courage to say. Hastily, you turn around to prevent him from scrutinising you, slinging your scabbard over your shoulder. (You don’t want to see his frown either.) “If anything, I’ll scream.” 

Goodbye is lodged between that lump of guilt and your tongue. At this moment it doesn’t exist. You imagine his hand grabbing your wrist, longing etched in his touch. You imagine footsteps. You imagine anything but the silence that follows you deeper into the woods, and your heart breaks, ever so slightly. 

You reach a point where the only light is the cracks of moonlight through the canopy. It aligns to light up a path before you, leading deeper into the forest and away from Padeth. 

“Why?” you whisper to the moon. It becomes clear that the concept of _sacrifice_ and you are as incompatible as the sword is to a baby. “Why can’t I just be normal?” 

The moon faintly glows brighter. You can’t help but recall a mixture of Akaashi’s comments on how beautiful she is and memories of that night she approached you. Two situations that made you feel joy interwoven with dread. 

“You’re not going to reply me, are you?” you whisper. The trees seem to sway in pity. 

“I wanted to be the chosen one,” you say while pacing about. The moonlight shining on your destined path is starting to dim. Inside you, a war breaks out: to stay or to leave? “I was so happy when I realised you chose me, but why?” 

“Did you think I was capable of letting go? You should have known in advance the difficulties I would face.” The months with the moon’s lack of response was uncomfortable, though the silent seconds this time tortures you. “Is this a test?” 

You want to fail. But the world can’t afford a failure. Everyone rejoices over the hero to keep the thoughts of war at bay. But you remember. All too clearly. Now, it’s blurry if this storm inside you is even about Akaashi at all. 

“Why?” You cry out, tugging at your hair as your mind swirls with decisions. Trapped. Constrained. Your insides are tearing you apart, and at that moment you just want someone—specifically—to hug it all together again, but the apprehension of unveiling the truth to him is too scarring. Trepidation. Fury. The taunts from your closest friends, family even, explode in your head and the impact causes you to fall to your knees. Heretic. Lunatic. Reality seemed to slip from your grasp as you clutch your head. You don’t notice the winds wrapping around your figure. 

A swirl of light gathers before you. Soon, a presence slows your thoughts, rearing it before your brain can self-destruction. 

As the light scatters, a woman adorned in a pale blue dress with silver hair flowing from her crown fades into view. The moon greets you with a nod as she did that fateful night. 

“How do I know you’re real?” you pant out. If fighting with yourself is enough to make you tired, you wonder if the sword is meant to be an insult to your strength. “How are you not a hallucination?” It pains you to say the words. Each syllable an invalidation to the sacrifices you had to make, and the one you’re struggling to make. 

She reaches out to touch your scabbard. It glows hot. On instinct, you sling it off and the burns on your hands are enough. There is no pity in the moon’s glowing yet muted grey eyes. 

“Okay. I get it,” you admit, the stinging something you would rather embrace then the wound of parting. “You’re real.” 

The crackle of the fire feels like a distant memory as an orchestra of insects fills the silence. (The thought of Akaashi creeps up yet again. You’re obligated to smile, but the moon catches onto your antics and her brows furrow. You distinguish the thought of him, straightening yourself as you purse your lips and return her stare.) 

“What… do you want to tell me?” you ask, fiddling with your hem. This time, you’re not bothered about being subtle, so your fingers go full force, so desperate to pull at individual threads and strip yourself free from the invisible armour attached to your skin. 

The moon only smiles. For a while, you tried to recall if she had a voice, though that wonder is swept under by her beauty. A wave of relaxation reaches you, halting your hasty fingers-intertwined-with-cloth dance. Your thoughts stall, and as still water divides solvent and solute, things should be clearer. 

“I know,” you quickly utter out, afraid that if you don’t, something will cause a ripple in your clear thoughts. “That I’m doing this to save everyone.” 

The moon nods. 

“And… you chose me.” 

Still no words. It feels like you’re in a minefield while your heart beats rapidly at the inviting thought of stepping on one of them—and underneath those (expected) explosive words from the moon, you know there is the treasure you seek. 

“Then why are you making this so hard for me? About Akaashi. Did I do something wrong?” 

“He is not a test,” her voice rings in your ear. “Just an obstacle you are not prepared to overcome.” 

“I am unworthy then,” you let out. “I don’t—shouldn’t—be the one.” Tears form in your eyes and your thoughts start to stir. A scream is stuck but the growing storm within you quells itself when she speaks. 

“That is not my metric of worthiness.” 

“Then why?” you croak. You just need one more push. One more reason to keep cutting your heart in tiny pieces and leave it in the ground for it to bear fruits. 

She points to you. “You see me.” 

“And Akaashi doesn’t?” 

“Not in the way that you do.” 

Gliding closer to you, the moon smells of dawn break—the pleasant whiff of morning dew—and that detail sends another wave of calm over you. It is weird to be stuck between frightfulness (for what, you aren’t sure, but your blood knows how to _rush_ ) and serendipity. A state where the hustle of the trees makes you flinch, yet your legs are standing strong. She places a hand on your shoulder, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Energy surges through your body. The burns on your hand start to fade, its purpose fulfilled. When you meet with her muted grey eyes, replacing her hand is the strap of your scabbard. 

“A position is not given to a person,” she says before the wind howls in your ears, “but to a condition set. Now, go.” 

You blink and she’s almost a memory. 

“Just 5 more minutes. I need to say-” 

“A goodbye is not necessary.” Her voice is stern, and it sends chills down your spine. “But a step in the right direction is.” 

With your newfound conviction, you take the first step onto the lit path, and you’re about to take the next when you hear his voice call out your name. It draws you in, nearly mixing that sweet honey with your clearer thoughts. But you bite your lips, close your eyes and trudge on. 

The moon seems to smile fondly at you as her light illuminates the path deeper into the forest. The sword (a gift, actually) helps you through with the slashing of trees and branches, or as a walking stick for stability while you trek through uneven and uncharted territory. 

How foolish of you to even consider “goodbye” an option. 

Explanations can come later—you realised as you wake the dawn on the 7th day after parting with him—but first, you need a chance to explain, and war is budding. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading until the end! it would be nice to hear your thoughts on akaashi as a character because i just really love to talk about him lmao.


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